


Peace is A Lifetime Away (But You're Right Here)

by orphan_account



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alicia centric, Canon Divergent from the season finale, Gen, ie Alicia trying to put herself first for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She doesn't remember how the apocalypse felt before she took her first life--In which Alicia Clarke puts herself first for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: There is no Elyza Lex in this fic, because this fic exists mainly in canon.

She isn't sure how exactly the apocalypse had felt before she'd taken an actual life, plunged the knife into his chest and watched him fall like a marionette with its strings cut. After she'd given a part of herself to keep Travis safe, Travis who'd tried to convince her that Chris wasn't dangerous, Travis that had left them like her father did, like Nick did, like even Ofelia did. Now she couldn't stop replaying the moment over and over again, feeling like she was leaving a trail of blood dripping from her fingertips. 

Now, after giving nearly every part of herself for the two people sitting in the front seat of their stolen truck, after everything she'd done to prove how capable she was of holding her own, after killing over and over to try and earn her place, her mother was staring out the window trying to read the road signs and Travis was lamenting the loss of Chris. All while she sat there, trying to avoid looking in her periphery at the man standing there staring at her accusingly, and trying hard to control her breathing so she wouldn't attract attention; not that those two had much to spare for her anyway.

She sees the man before either Travis or her mom notice him, but she's already grown complacent with sleep deprivation induced hallucinations that she doesn't think he's real until Travis slams the breaks to stop from running him over. They all realise his mistake a moment too late when the ma  
n turns around and he's holding holding an AK-47 with a concerning amount of comfort, like he's used to. The look of recognition materialises on his and her mother's faces at the exact same moment, and suddenly he's yelling something that Alicia roughly translates into 'get out of the car' by the way he's suddenly pointing the gun aggressively in the rough triangle formed by all three of their heads.

Travis gets out first, putting his hands behind his head and spewing what little Spanish he knows in a grammatically incorrect manner. The man, however, seems more interested in her mother. He realises shortly after that she isn't going to move just because there's a gun pointed at her head, so he points the gun at Alicia instead. Hallucinations or no, she catches her mother's slight hesitation as she thinks it through for a split second before exiting the car. Alicia follows her out, though she can't meet her mother's eyes when she does.

"Where is the boy," the man asks in Spanish, and without asking Alicia knows that he's talking about Nick, even after he's left her life still revolves around him. That's the exact moment she knows she has to leave. Sleep deprivation, anger and guilt mix into a cocktail of clear-headedness, the likes of which she's never experienced. The nostalgia she's been carrying around with her since the start of the end, the person she's fought to remain as, the hope that one day everything will go back and all her plans will slip back into place, all of it, she drops everything in that moment. Her hand moves subconsciously to the tattoo on her arm, trying to trace the outline. The man catches her movement and aims the gun at her, repeating his statement louder.

"Okay, just get me a paper, I'll draw you a map," she says, making sure to pronounce every Spanish word as best she can. The man pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, but she stops him. "Not here."

They move a decent way away from the truck, Travis' face to the asphalt watching their legs as they walk away, and Madison scowling at the man. The language barrier has left them almost clueless to why Alicia is walking away with the armed man, but she calms Madison with a single finger against her lips, urging her mother not to talk. She draws a map as best she can, drawing a path well past the Rosarito and to where they'd docked the Abigail. She adds a note on the bottom about the boat leaving early the next morning.

The man seems stunned by how cooperative she's being. Up close he looks less like a man and more like a boy on the brink of manhood, not much older than she is but not as old as Ofelia. His face asks the question he doesn't say.

"You're going to kill us anyway, might as well be helpful before you do." She says it in English, a throwaway response she doesn't expect him to understand, but he does. His face falls, and his eyes drift to the gun in his hands.

"I've never killed anyone that's not a muerto." He defends.

"I have." She doesn't recognise her own voice when she says it, it sounds hollow and broken, more so than usual. For a split second she sees the man, chest blooming red behind the armed man, like a mirage in the distance. The man is so stunned by her revelation that he doesn't stop her when she brushes past him, lost in a reverie, walking towards the man.

She focuses on all the things that feel solid right then: the weight of her backpack, stuffed with scavenged materials but not nearly enough for the stunt she's trying to pull; the tattoo on her arm that couldn't possibly be throbbing; her phone in her pocket that suddenly feels so much like an anchor to who she used to be. She tosses the phone a few feet, good but not impressive, and decides she needs to get stronger.

Somewhere just out of range of her hearing she swears she can hear somebody calling her back. She steps on the cracked screen of the iPhone as she walks farther away from the voice. The man has disappeared again, but her goal remains clear as day. She can't bring herself to regret it.

\--

The high of leaving wears off just as she enters a small town with dusty streets and abandoned houses. She takes a drink of the last few drops of water in her canteen as she starts down the street, eyeing all of the houses suspiciously, they're all too open or too big to secure properly except one slight house nestled between an apartment building and the house on the next road, so inconspicuous that she only caught it because of the sudden glare of the window.

She approaches it with caution, flicking her knife out of her pocket and gripping it tighter than usual. She needs to get a new weapon, one a little larger that doesn't remind her of blood dripping down her hands, but this one will do for now.

The building looks like an apartment, big enough for a single occupant but fitted for at least three people to live comfortably. Surprisingly, the building appears fully stocked with essentials, an entire room is dedicated to canned foods and large barrels of water. More surprisingly, when she circles back to the entrance, a girl supporting herself on a makeshift cane is pointing a shotgun at her.

"Put your knife down," the girl commands her, and Alicia obliges, slowly squatting to drop the blade. She spots the girl's right leg, wrapped in a thick bandage, and very obviously not healing properly. "My eyes are up here."

Alicia straightens, arms above her head.

"Who are you?" The girl demands, her voice doesn't bear any of the tell tale signs of a native Spanish speaker. She sounds vaguely American. 

"I'm Alicia, and I'm honestly not looking to start any trouble. I can just be going, but your leg doesn't look too good."

"If you're not looking to start trouble, why are you here Alycia?" 

"It's a long story."

"Give me the abridged version." Out of the corner of her eye, Alycia can see that standing up this long is taking a toll on the girl; the cane is wobbling slightly with the uneven weight being placed on it.

"Can we take a seat? I've been walking for a really long time," the girl looks like she's weighing her options. "You can even keep pointing your shotgun at me if you like," Alycia adds when the girl doesn't answer. She gives a small nod and leads them to the small living room.

"So why are you here?" She says after they've made themselves comfortable. The gun rests against her injured leg on the couch like some unspoken conclusion has been reached, but still within easy reach of her hands.

"I left my mother and her sort of boyfriend because that was what was best for me." Her voice comes off a bit defensive, despite her best efforts she still feels bad for deserting her mother. The girl looks at her with a mix of disappointment and interest. "Look, -" she pauses when she realises she doesn't know the girl's name.

"Isobel," the girl supplies.

"Look, Isobel. Sometimes you've got nothing left to give to someone who just takes and takes. For a long time I raised myself because she was too busy looking for my brother, who always left until he needed something or was so hurt he couldn't go anywhere else," she pauses for air before continuing, "and I just couldn't stand being sidelined again after everything I've done to try and prove myself. I'm tired of trying to prove myself."

"You're trying to prove yourself right now, aren't you?" 

Alicia is caught off guard by Isobel's comment. She expects Isobel to kick her out, gun to her back, with the look of sheer disgust she's shooting at her. Instead she continues.

"You're going to die out there if you let everyone relegate you to where they think you should be. You've got to fight for what you need. If you're going to stay here with me, you're going to have to prove to me everyday that you're not going to get me killed."

Isobel offers Alicia her hand.

"Deal?"

Alicia takes her hand without hesitation and shakes it.

"Now, we have to get you a weapon."

"I already have a weapon."

"I mean an actual weapon, something a little bigger." Isobel makes to stand up, and Alicia essentially leaps out of her chair to stop her, placing a hand on her shoulder to hold her back but taking it away when Isobel sends her a hard glare.

"Your leg first," she explains.

"You know what you're doing?" Isobel asks, doubt evident in her voice.

"My brother," Alicia says in lieu of an explanation. 

"Okay."

\--

/Alicia remembers the day clearly. It was monumental, it was the day she realised that blood wasn't enough to endear you to someone. Technically it had been night, the night she'd gone out with Matt, when he'd asked her to be his girlfriend and had driven her home, both of them grinning like idiots. That night had felt like possibly the best night of her life until they'd spotted Nick sprawled on the front porch.

Madison wasn't home, she ws scouring police stations for Nick like she'd done everyday that week, so Alicia was expecting an empty house. When Alicia saw Nick she immediately thought two things: 'Why was he there?' Then the answer to the question 'he's hurt'./

She picks all the things she can remember Matt had Googled from the shelves of the supply room. Then takes a pair of cleaning gloves; that'll have to do.

/Pre Apocalypse it had been easier to get all the things they needed for Nick. As Matt worked to get Nick to explain why he had a bullet lodged in him, Alicia stood back, arms crossed, trying to reconcile the man before her, bleeding out and dying with a manic grin on his face, with the brother she used to know. The brother who'd do anything for her.

Now, he only comes home when he needs something and is too hurt to go anywhere else.

"Smile 'licia, I'm going to be fine," he drawled. She was about to tear into him when Matt looked at her, a reassuring smile on his face.

"Trust me, I come from a family of doctors," Matt joked. Alicia couldn't help but smile.

"Your parents are therapists Matt," she deadpanned, struggling to keep her face straight./

She can't help the small curl of her lips as she slowly peels the bandage off of Isobel's leg. It's ill placed and awkward, but she doesn't notice Isobel's confused look as she continues to reminisce. 

/Nick refused to go into the house after they patched him up, instead choosing to stumble down the street into the night. The night was unofficially ruined, her hands where covered in blood from assisting Matt, and Matt's shirt was stained with dry blood.

"I think I'm going to head in for the night. I had a great time, honestly." She didn't want to say that the night had turned into a disaster, but it was plenty implied.

"How about we go for a drive?" Matt offered. Alicia turned to face him. He had this earnest look on his face, like he wanted to salvage the night a all costs.

She gave a small nod./

She ties off the end of the bandage and tucks it into the bandage, being careful not to touch the wound. Isobel already removed the bullet. She piles all the used materials into her arms to throw away.

/Venice Beach was beautiful at night. There was a bonfire going on, and Matt convinced her that they should try to blend in. 'Blending in' involved tagging palm trees, Matt obviously, and Beer pong, with mixed results.

After the bonfire they were too wasted for either of them to drive, so they slept in his car with the roof open so they could watch the stars./

\--

Isobel tosses a baseball bat at Alicia without so much as a warning beforehand. She catches it awkwardly, her wrist smarting from the impact.

"Ow," she complains, rubbing her wrists.

"We're going on a supply run."

"We've got a lot here."

"Lesson one, you don't wait until you're hungry to get food."

"Is that how you stocked this place up, scavenging?"

Isobel doesn't answer, she just limps out of the room.

Alicia catches up to her before she leaves the house, stopping her with a hand to her shoulder. Isobel turns with a glare at the ready but Alicia stands her ground. 

"You stay, I'll go," Alicia states.

"You don't know what we need," Isobel counters.

"Write me a grocery list." The discussion ends there, Isobel conceding entirely too easily. She hands off her rugsack to Alicia.

"There's one in the bag. Don't get lost." Isobel turns away from her so fast that Alicia doesn't catch the hint of a smile on her face.

\--

Alicia is lost, trapped, but mostly lost. The trapped problem could be easily fixed, there are ten, maybe thirteen, muertos between where she is hiding behind the counter and the door of the clothes store.

She was changing into an outfit that allowed more flexibility, a baggy shirt and grey basketball shorts a size too big held up by a belt, when the first of them entered the store. It attracted several more and now she's stuck behind the counter trying to orient herself and also come up with a plan of action.

She's already gotten most of what the list called for, bar some canned food which are in short supply due to all the other scavengers. She waits for one of the muertos to come within striking range and bashes it's head in. Blood and gore splatters almost everywhere, narrowly missing staining her new clothes.

The sound of the bat against soft bone sends the others into a frenzy. Those closest to the sound turn and begin their approach, their groans attract those farther away. One by one she strikes them out, arms aching from the effort. At about five muertos in, her arms switch to autopilot. They aim and swing without her consent until long after the last one is down.

She opens her eyes to the sight of the clothing store as empty as she met it. The bat in her hands is more red than brown, and she can feel blisters forming on her palm. She jumps onto the counter and surveys the pile of muertos that are starting to smell at the base of the counter. She squats and jumps, clearing the pile cleanly.

She wipes the bat on a random shirt. The bat shakes in her hand as she wipes it down, she takes a deep breath and heads back to the changing room where she dropped the rugsack.

Outside the store is dimly lit by the setting sun. In the distance she can make out the outline of The Rosarito, and she thinks of Strand, and whatever must be happening to him because of what she did. She decides that she's going to break him, but not like this, not when she's still weak. No, she's got to stick her resolution out. She needs to become the person she needs to be. 

Night arrives with her still on the road, she considers stealing one of the multiple cars she walks past but realises she doesn't know how to hot wire a car and that cars create unwanted attention. She takes a seat by the side of a road she doesn't recognise, she's been walking longer than she should have and is decidedy lost. She lays back, wrapping her arms around the rugsack, and watches the stars.

/Matt loved the stars. After a particularly hard day, she would sit by her window and call him, and he would narrate the stories behind every constellation she could see out of her window. She heard some of them ten, maybe twelve times, but the thing she remembered the clearest was the joy in his voice as he rambled about Sagittarius./

She doesn't notice the tear that slips free.

/He also had the terrible habit of doodling on her body. He gave her a tattoo once, after she'd made an offhanded comment about how he should go into the tattoo business. He'd gotten a tattoo gun and temporary ink, and held her hand while he drew a monochromatic Saturn onto her shoulder blade./

She gets up and keeps walking, the stars her only illumination. 

\--

She never finds the house. Instead, Isobel finds her walking in the wrong direction, several streets away from where the safe house is. Isobel resolves to draw her a map the next time she sends her out.

Isobel tries on some of the clothes in the rugsack before settling on a tank top and jeans with the right leg cut out. She changes, without warning, in front of Alicia; who tries her best to avert her eyes. After changing she declares, quite loudly, that Alicia should take a shower.

The shower is actually just a open space behind the house with a drain at the centre. When Alicia walks outside, heavy bucket of water in hand, Isobel locks the door behind her and promises to unlock it when Alicia doesn't smell like one of the muertos. She gets ten minutes, lukewarm water, and a bar of soap to achieve this.

Alicia is shivering outside counting down the seconds to ten minutes because Isobel hadn't given her a towel. She can't wear the clothes she came out in because they're dirty and that defeats the point of taking a shower. At exactly ten minutes, Isobel swings the door open holding a change of clothes. She tosses the clothes at Alicia, and she has to drop all the things she's been using to cover herself. She's not sure how comfortable she is flashing a complete stranger. She turns around to change.

"When you're done we're going to cut your hair," Isobel says without warning; like everything else she does.

"What?" Alicia spins around, hand still stuck in its motion of tucking her baggy shirt into the waistband of the basketball shorts.

"Your hair," Isobel mimes cutting her own black curls, "snip snip."

"I understand, I just don't get. You didn't cut your own hair."

"Lesson two, see that mane of yours, it will kill you. Either someone who knows you and isn't fond of you spots you from a mile away, or someone or something grabs you by your hair and puts you in real trouble," she pauses for her words to sink in, "so, snip snip."

"But you didn't cut yours." Alicia restates her point.

"I can handle myself, you can't." Isobel mouths snip snip.

"I'll cut it myself," Alicia says as she walks past Isobel into the house.

"Scissors are on the table," Isobel yells after her.

\--

Alicia stares at the mirror, scissors just inches from where her hair is packed into a tight ponytail.

/Matt grew a moustache once, then refused to shave it off because it felt nice.

"Alicia, c'mon babe. 'licia just give me a kiss," Matt pouted, but her resolve didn't falter.

"Matt, I'm not kissing you with that abomination on your lip."

Matt gasped. "Matt Jr. is not an abomination."

"You named it?"

"Of course," he ran his fingers through the sparse hair on his upper lip, "asking me to shave my moustache is like me asking you to cut your hair."

"You love my hair, you'd never do that. Plus my hair is nice."

"That it is, but still."

"Keep your moustache but I'll stop shaving my legs," she said after a moment.

"I don't mind, but keep in mind we live in California. I don't think you'll enjoy summer when your legs are overheating."

"It doesn't work that way, Matt."

"Hey, you can't blame me, Mrs. I want to be a doctor."

"I think you'll look beautiful regardless. There'll be a day that you'll cut your hair, and I'll be there to tell you just how beautiful you look."

"I'm never cutting my hair, but you're shaving that moustache."/

Her hair falls down in waves as she works along the edge of the hair ruffle. She avoids looking at it, instead focusing on her eyes. They're dark from little rest, and red rimmed from all the tears she's shed. 

When she emerges from the room, the tips of her hair ghost by her shoulder causing her to flinch. Isobel takes one look at her and tells her to go to bed.

Laying down on the hard bed, she drifts off to thoughts of her family, blood and otherwise, and the promise she's made to herself to save Strand.


End file.
